The Holy Capital, the heart of the Church, once bathed in sacred light and a symbol of faith and hope, was now shrouded in war clouds and ominous shadows.
The towering white city walls were stained in the dusk’s afterglow with the colors of blood and fire.
The air was thick with the acrid smell of gunpowder and blood, mingled with a strange, indescribable scent—like a corrupted flower, sickeningly sweet to the point of decay.
Eileen sat astride her warhorse at the forefront of the Imperial army, flanked by the Empire’s elite phalanx clad in deep black armor, and the Church’s “Restoration Knights,” temporarily organized and barely holding formation under Rosewither’s command.
The Restoration Knights mainly consisted of Jelarurel’s opposition faction and clergy from the Shadow Sword Order.
Her silver hair was tied neatly at the back of her head, dressed in light silver-gray armor designed for mobility, draped over with the Shadow Sword’s dark blue cloak.
Her golden eyes, like frozen amber, reflected the burning city ahead—a Holy Capital consumed by war, yet deathly silent, like a massive tomb.
Her thoughts involuntarily drifted back to a few days ago, to that cold and brief final meeting at the border of Raven’s Domain.
Frederica had ultimately “granted” Viera’s request, choosing a hill far from the army’s view, tightly “guarded” by Imperial soldiers.
The snow and wind persisted, a replay of the day at the fortress walls.
Viera, the Crown Princess of the Kingdom, once a spirited blue-haired girl, now looked utterly haggard.
Her ornate silver armor could not conceal the dark circles beneath her eyes or the heavy fatigue and pain etched between her brows.
When she saw Eileen approaching, accompanied by an Imperial female officer, her eyes instantly ignited with a complex light—regret, pain, plea, and a faint trace of humble hope.
“Eileen!” Viera’s voice was choked, stepping forward desperately, only to be pinned in place by Eileen’s cold, distant gaze.
“Princess Viera,” Eileen’s voice was calm, devoid of any emotion, as if stating a fact unrelated to herself, “How may I assist you?”
“I… I just wanted to… see you… to tell you…” Viera faltered, tears welling in her eyes, “I’m sorry! Eileen! I know, I know I made too many mistakes! I misunderstood you, hurt you, and even, even abandoned you when you needed me most! I… I…”
She choked on her words, barely able to speak, the overwhelming guilt making her body tremble slightly.
Eileen quietly watched her, her golden eyes cold and bottomless, with nothing but a chilling frost.
That gaze was colder than the howling northern wind, piercing Viera to the bone.
“Are you finished?” Eileen’s voice remained flat. “If Your Highness only came to apologize, then I have received your message. If there is nothing else, please leave. The Imperial army is about to march, and there are many affairs to attend.”
“Eileen!” Viera hurriedly stepped forward again, desperation lacing her voice, “I know, I know this sounds ridiculous now, but I really… really can’t watch you go to the Empire! That’s not your home! Frederica… she’s a madwoman! She’ll only imprison you! Use you! Come back with me! Eileen! We… we still have a chance! The Kingdom needs you! I… I need you too!”
She finally shouted the deepest yearning in her heart.
“Return?” Eileen’s lips curled into an extremely cold, almost mocking smile, shattering Viera’s heart. “Return where? To the Kingdom that sees me as a traitor? To the nobles who would tear me apart alive? Or back under your so-called ‘justice’ and ‘greater good’?”
Her voice suddenly rose, filled with long-suppressed, icy fury: “Viera! Even now, you only think of yourself! You think the Kingdom needs me? You think you need me? Have you ever thought about what I need?!”
Eileen’s gaze was sharp as a blade, as if to dissect Viera’s hypocritical regret entirely:
“What I need is trust! Support! At the very least, when the whole world turns against me, someone who stands by my side! Even if it’s only to say, ‘I believe in her’! But what about you, Princess Viera? What have you done? You chose the Kingdom, your duties, your reputation! You chose to stand against me!”
She took a deep breath, suppressing the surging emotions, her voice turning icy with finality, as if severing all ties:
“Now, the Kingdom has temporary peace, the fortress has been returned, and you have a chance to breathe. This is the price of the deal. As for me, where I belong is no longer your concern. Put away your belated remorse and worthless care. From now on, you walk your sunny path, and I will cross my solitary bridge.”
“We are done here. Do not appear before me again, and do not attempt to involve yourself with me any longer. The weak Eileen Raven of the past is dead.”
Each word was like an ice-coated nail, hammered hard into Viera’s heart, shattering her last shred of hope.
Her face turned pale as paper, her body staggering, lips moving but unable to utter a sound.
Those once-bright blue eyes now held only ashen despair and endless emptiness.
She finally understood that the chasm between her and Eileen, though seeming just a step apart, was in fact a bottomless, impassable abyss.
So close, yet worlds away.
Eileen cast one last glance at her, eyes calm and still, no trace of emotion left.
Then, without hesitation, she turned and resolutely left the snow-covered hill, silently “guarded” by the Imperial female officer, never looking back.
Viera stood alone in the storm, like a statue abandoned by the world, allowing cold tears to freeze on her cheeks.
In that moment, she realized she had lost the most important person in her life, in the cruelest, most irreparable way.
…
As the cold tide of memory receded, Eileen’s thoughts were dragged back to the harsh reality by the blaring war horns.
“Woooo—wuuuu—wuuuu!”
The deep, resonant Imperial war horns shattered the dusk’s silence like a roaring beast, shaking the earth!
“For the Empire! For Her Majesty the Empress! To liberate the Holy Capital! To slay the evil! To rescue the captured people!” The generals of the Imperial Legion roared deafeningly.
“By the Holy Light! Exterminate the blasphemer Jelarurel! Restore the Holy Capital! Redeem our brothers and sisters!” The Restoration Knights cried out with bitter fury.
“Kill—!!!”
Like a flood of black steel and waves of silver faith, the combined forces of the Imperial Legion and the Restoration Knights charged, their battle cries shaking the heavens, toward the tightly shut gates and the seemingly sparse city defenses of the Holy Capital!
Ladders, battering rams, and massive catapults struck simultaneously!
Eileen stood on a temporary command platform at the rear, beside the overall commander of this siege—General Barton Horn, a fierce warrior under the Imperial “Iron Wall” Marshal.
This general, known for his bravery and stubbornness, now wore a fierce grin filled with unyielding confidence.
“See that, Miss Eileen?” General Horn pointed to the ladders swiftly erected with barely any resistance, and the thin, seemingly spiritless defenders on the walls. “That madwoman Jelarurel has been abandoned by all! Even her own Church knights refuse to fight for her! The breach of this hollow Holy Capital will come today!”
But Eileen’s golden eyes narrowed slightly, a sharp unease rapidly spreading in her heart.
Too smooth! Too suspiciously smooth!
As the core of the Church, she knew well the Holy Capital’s defensive systems and the strength of its magical barriers.